


Symmetry in Contrasts

by neverminetohold



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: AU/AT, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Coda, Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), Slash (mild), Stand Alone Chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From strangers to teammates and friends to lovers, over the course of the TFA series. Episode related OneShots, sprinkled with some AUs for your entertainment.</p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer: Transformers Animated belongs to Hasbro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Teamwork

Prowl watched, concealed within the shadows, as Optimus sank to the ground in exhaustion.

Optimus had trained outside the warehouse for quite some time, slipping away as soon as Sari had left and everyone else went into recharge.

But their leader had not sought to practice. Rather, Optimus had vented his frustration with destructive ferociousness on the hapless dummy. Were it not for the fact that the target was a transparent hologram, flickering to indicate a hit, - it would litter the cracked concrete in pieces.

The noise when a swing missed, metal crashing into the ground, although faint by distance, had lured Prowl away from his lofty refuge in the tree.

He had noticed the signs well before this barely controlled outburst: little gestures, clenched servos, the energy flow of an aura disrupted, the wrong inflections in clipped words, lending them an underlying meaning; reined in, but there.

In fact, the ninjabot had all but waited for this night to happen.

The last orn had been... _taxing_.

Starscream's grand appearance had almost cost them Sari's life, because plans and orders were ignored; no one willing to listen to Optimus in their panic. Everyone had stumbled over the others pedes, hindering each others efforts to rescue the little girl.

Prowl himself had been absent during the hostage situation, lured away out of Detroit by his need to explore the fascinating wildlife of this unique, organic planet.

Returning, he had only heard the end of it, arriving in their impromptu HQ only to bear the brunt of an enraged speech about the necessity of teamwork - and how he had left them, leaving them vulnerable.

Prowl did not appreciate being used as a scapegoat, - he had, after all, asked for permission to leave, not entirely trusting the sudden peacefulness; making amends to his need for privacy. He did not consider the other 'bots his teammates, but he would never abandon his Cybertronian kin in time of need.

Even so, he had kept his silence, enduring the rant stoically, giving the others the opportunity to tend to the still shaken Sari. The lack of response, predictably, had irritated the Prime even more.

And yet: Starscream's arrival on Earth was not something anyone could have anticipated. Which begged the question - who was Optimus truly mad with?

Surely, their lack of teamwork rankled with the former Elite Guard; to him, it was the key component to success, after all. But Prowl had picked up and analyzed enough evidence to recognize that Optimus' apparent inability to _lead_ them had cut the mech deeply.

Being a bot to chase an unattainable ideal of perfection, this sowed the seeds of self-doubt in Optimus. Or rather, Prowl suspected, already existing issues were drawn back to light, being buried only plating deep.

The burdens of leadership wore heavily on any mechs shoulder plates - and Optimus was still young.

Having observed the quiet mech long enough to gauge his current emotional state, Prowl stepped forward, into the silvery sheen of moonlight.

"Talk alone will not shape individuals into a team," he stated with deliberate indifference, coming to a standstill right behind the younger 'bot.

Optimus startled and scrambled back on his pedes in an astrosecond. He pulled his ax from subspace in the same movement; far from elegant, but quickly for a 'bot that weary from low running energy levels. Spotting Prowl, he cycled air through his intakes to cool down his combat ready systems.

"Prowl," he acknowledged, putting his weapon away. A faint trace of resentment lingered in the pitch of his vocalizer; dimming his bright blue optics.

"Prime," Prowl inclined his dark helm a mere fracture in greeting, completely unfazed by the frosty welcome. Rejection grated on his fine sense for energy signatures, but he would not leave, despite finding 'meddling' to be aversive, he deemed it necessary, in this case. So Prowl kept his faceplate blank, but could in turn easily detect the tenseness of coiled musculature in Optimus' red-blue frame.

The air between them, a warm summers breeze even at night, seemed to charge up with things unspoken:

Bitterness.  
Accusations.  
 _Shame._

The swirling emotions twisted the situation into a face-off. An undesired battle of wills in absolute silence... but Prowl refused to provide purchase for more, letting every buffeting tendril of emotion bounce off. He had not opted to reveal his presence to make himself a target.

A moment passed in silence, only disturbed by some rodents, rustling around the corner between trash cans, and the far away noise of traffic.

Then Optimus slumped, his shoulder plates drooped, as did his helm, as if any fight left whooshed out of him like air from his vents. "I don't give those speeches because I like to hear my own voice pattern," he stated at last.

In more than one way, this was a disturbing comment, coming from the Prime.

Recognizing the opening for what it was, satisfied that his approach had worked out with such ease, Prowl responded with a firm: "I know."

Thrown off-balance, having expected a scathing rebuke, Optimus shuttered his optics, not able to exclaim something more eloquent than a startled: "What?!"

"Teamwork is essential, especially so in our situation, seeing as we can only rely on each other, - it is only logical."

Optimus shook his helm dejectedly, dropping his carefully crafted mask of a perfect leader completely: "We all realize that. And yet... we almost lost Sari."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully: "But that narrowly avoided event was the first step to teamwork. Because everyone worked together, in the end, which drove Starscream off and saved her."

Prowl paused, letting his words sink in, before he continued: "Precious things are shaped through actions, when all are compelled to act as one. And, Optimus... you seized that moment, turning the tide in the ensuing battle. You led - and they followed you. Willingly."

Now Optimus looked positively stunned, with wide open optics, as if a glitch threatened to crash his processor. Missing the point of this conversation entirely, he blurted: "That was the most you ever talked in the whole vorn I have known you."

Quite similar to Bumblebee, thought Prowl dryly.

Young, indeed. - And deprived of desperately needed recharge, not to mention that the emotional turmoil finally caught up, fusing an undesirable combination.

Prowls visor narrowed slightly, but by then, Optimus was already seriously pondering his words, so he let it slide. Instead of commenting, he used the moment of distraction to slip back to the warehouse on silent pedes, having almost completed the task he had set out to do.

"Prowl, wait, I was unfai-"

"They will become a team, eventually," interrupted Prowl. He did not desire an apology, and, judging by Optimus chagrined tone, he had narrowly avoided one. Prowls frame was already half-way melted with the darkness of the doorway.

"And you?"

The question was spoken softly, yet without any inflection other than a regained composure. It was no hint left of the utter frustration from earlier and devoid of any accusation for Prowls self chosen aloofness.

Of course, Prowl was perfectly aware that he had revealed parts of himself, in acting on his own insights into Optimus character...

"... I am fully capable to work with a team, should the need arise," he allowed, hovering almost beyond the reach of the moonlight.

"But not being part of one?"

The shadows swallowed Prowl's frame whole, as if erasing his very existence.

Optimus waited, not really sure for what. But then, a quite "Not yet" drifted back to him, making his patience worthwhile. - He had much to contemplate.

End


	2. Working Together?

Bulkhead crashed helm first into the Sumdac tower; clouds of dust exploded in all directions. Glass and rubble buried his frame, raining down on his thick green plating with sharp clanks.  
  
Optimus ducked, only able to spare him a quick glance, - Bulkhead was forced into stasis lock; the stench of liquefied alloys hung heavily in the air.  
  
Optimus swerved to the right, spotting movement behind him. He staggered dangerously for a moment, his damaged leg unable to support his full weight; but he managed.  
  
A spray of dark green hit the concrete were he had stood a mere moment ago, dissolving the ground into a sizzling pool of gray foam. Dashing for temporary cover, luring their foe farther away, Optimus opened a comm link: “Ratchet, what’s your status?”  
  
Nothing but static answered him for an astrosecond; his spark clenched in anticipation; then: “Working on it. Energy level 80 % and rising; program restored. Sari can almost use her key. Just hang in there a bit longer, Prime!”  
  
Optimus replay was lost in his agonized scream. - Boiling hot acid had slammed right through the wall he had hidden behind, melting his armor plates. Streams of his own red paintjob ran down to his pedes, biting into the open wiring of the wound; turning it black. It felt like lines of fire, electrons almost overloading his processor with pain; his screen flooded with warnings and corrupted code sequences.  
  
The buzz of the laser fading, his ax clattered deactivated to the ground, as his servos released their desperate clutch around the handle involuntarily. His frame followed it down, crumbling to the ground; lying on his side, vulnerable to any attack.  
  
“Ready to melt? Piece by robotic junk piece?” a voice drawled; drawing near.  
  
A shadow loomed over Optimus. Quickly adjusting his optics, the only component responding readily, he could discern a shape. Through the red haze, it turned into a body.  
  
His containment suit almost overflowing with deathly acid in his glee, Meltdown leered, looking down on him; his smirk flowing and rearranging constantly.  
  
Optimus tried to get back up, to use his grappling hooks, to do something – but his frame only twitched feebly; the movement eliciting a groan as everything burned.  
  
Meltdown raised both arms, waterfalls of Cybertronian enzymes, and time seemed to slow down, as did Optimus' processing capability.  
  
Everything was reduced to the distant sounds of fighting – Bumblebee and Prowl, trying to take down Colossus - , and Sari, screaming at her key to finally work, damn it! And a blue, bright sky, the sun shining – beautiful, but Optimus realized belatedly that he was cast in a long-stretched shadow.  
  
The hissing sound of acid was overly loud in the sudden, accepting calm of his spark. The finger-like shapes aimed straight for its chamber, - the impact would instantly deactivate him, extinguishing his life force...  
  
But it never came.  
  
Instead, out of nowhere, Prowl appeared, right behind Meltdown’s back. In a movement blurred by speed, his servos struck, connecting in a series of blows; aimed with deathly accuracy. Acid splattered around, bursting into the air as a fine spray, with each hit.  
  
Meltdown’s inhuman visage formed an almost comical impression of surprise as he slipped down to his knees, all strength drained away; uttering: “Oh.” He lost consciousness, threatening to disperse into a green pool of bubbling goo; melting straight through the street.  
  
Just then, a blue light shimmered into existence around the empty suit, separating the acid, trapping it in a transparent sphere; lifting into the air. Sari and Ratchet had finally managed to activate the force field. – And she was already leaving the tower, running over to use her key on Bulkhead.  
  
Good. Optimus shuttered his optics in relief, one which had nothing to do with the pain wrecking his immobile frame. – His team would be safe.  
  
“Prime!” Ratchet was beside him in an instant, running scans and cursing under the hiss of his frantically working vents. Emergency spark support was hooked up by deft digits, to keep his systems from crashing until Sari arrived.  
  
Still dazed, Optimus tried to see the status of the rest of his team, failing that from his perspective, he asked with a staticy voice: “Colossus?”  
  
“No worries, big ‘bot. Your resident star player took him down.” Bumblebee’s helm entered Optimus field of view. The young mech made the victory sign, grinning, - until Ratchet shoved him away with enough force that he yelped.  
  
Sari skidded to a halt besides them, looking, for once, unamused. “You played bait, Bee. Bulkhead and Prowl did the hard work, - although your stingers were quite useful,” she corrected; adding the last part as a teasing afterthought.  
  
Optimus could feel her crawling over his plating and then watched as Ratchet lifted her to his open spark chamber, to prevent her from touching the remaining acid. Her key connected with his systems.  
  
“It was teamwork, right, little buddy?” chimed Bulkhead in for the sake of peace; he was already up and moving around.  
  
“Sure was!”  
  
A surge of pure power flowed straight into every circuit of Optimus frame as Sari turned the Allspark key to ignite his systems, purging the pain from them and repairing the sustained damage. He sighed quietly in relief, letting the tingling scan from Ratchet wash over him before he dared to move even a digit. The verdict was positive, so the CMO let him get up, back on his pedes, with Bulkhead lending a steadying servo.  
  
“You alright, boss ‘bot?”  
  
Optimus nodded, eliciting cheers form Bumblebee and Sari. – But, wait...!  
  
“Where is – Prowl! Ratchet, his servos!”  
  
Startled, and a bit guilt-ridden, everyone turned eyes and optics to the silent ninjabot, standing in the shadow of a wall. – Only to see that, although his digits were charred and thin tendrils of smoke rose from them, they were largely unharmed.  
  
Visor narrowing slightly, being in the spotlight of undivided attention, Prowl said in his typical monotone: “I am fine. Do not concern yourself.”  
  
Bumblebee was kneeling beside him in a yellow flash, intently studying his loosely held servos, completely disregarding the concept of private space; which was never a good idea.  
  
“Wow, Prowl – how did you pull that stunt off without a scratch?”  
  
Prowls faceplate went totally blank. Sidestepping the smaller ‘bot, he put some distance between them, before responding: “... Circuit-Su is, among other things, the art of manipulating ones own spark energy for varying purposes.”  
  
“... Huh?”  
  
The gold-black ‘bot sighed, clearly disgusted by such ignorance and for once not trying to hide it. Ratchet came closer and he allowed the medic to take a scan, the blue light tracing his resignedly held out servos; knowing better by now than to try and avoid it.  
  
Prowl then focussed on Bumblebee’s clueless faceplate. Seeing the expression mirrored by all but the old war veteran by his side, he reluctantly elaborated: “In laymen’s terms, I created a small ‘force field’ of my own, to protect my servos from serious damage.”  
  
Frowning at his readings, Ratchet growled: “As if ‘light’ damage’s not enough. – I want all your sorry afts in my med-bay for a check up, as soon as we get back to base.” Seeing their expressions, he held up a warning digit: “No, don’t even try to argue.”  
  
“You all heard Ratchet. And Prowl-“  
  
“Really?” Bumblebee interrupted, having Prowls words mulled over; sounding a bit sullen. “Man, if you had such a neat trick up your plating, then why didn’t you use it sooner? Like, five breems ago, when that crazy dude almost melted my aft?”  
  
“Bee!” Sari gave the yellow ‘bot a smack in warning, which barely registered with her friend.  
  
Prowls visor narrowed to slits: “Because it is not... advisable to use it too often in this manner.” He transformed before the last word had left his vocalizer and drove away; the bike weaving through the littering rubble.  
  
From the highway, sirens were drawing closer.  
  
“Well – what are we waiting for? Let’s move, young ‘bots. Med-bay it is. Let Captain Fanzone handle the rest from here.”  
  
Optimus, processor still lingering on both Prowls words and his rigid stance, indicating his unwillingness to speak about the matter, startled a bit at Ratchet’s impatient grumbling.  
  
“Right. Let’s head back to base. Autobots, transform and roll out!”  
  
Which they did, - but even Bumblebee did not put up too much speed, trying to procrastinate as much as possible, not keen on the awaiting ‘prodding torture’.  
  
BREAK  
  
Later that evening, finally released from Ratchet’s well meaning clutches, Optimus found Prowl outside the manufacturing plant, near the only patch of grass to be found in the vicinity.  
  
The ninjabot seemed to study something between the gently swaying blades. Coming closer, Optimus could see an anthill, crawling with hundreds of black insects. – For such tiny organic creatures, he noted absently, they were able to haul tremendous weights, as illustrated by the dead grasshopper they dragged into their hole.  
  
Optimus decided to skip right to the point – better to say his piece now, phrased as carefully neutral as possible, than for Prowl to up and leave, like last time.  
  
“Prowl. Thank you. You saved my life today – and you were a great help in this battle.”  
  
The ninjabot didn’t turn around to face him, visor still trained down. “... Unnecessary. Our victory was a combined effort.”  
  
Which is beside the point, as true as that assessment may be, thought Optimus wryly. But he held his glossa, weary and unwilling to risk starting an argument, when all he wanted was to express his gratitude. Maybe he should notch it up as improvement in their interaction, that he had been able to actually say the words this time.  
  
“Yes, a combined effort. – Prowl, you’re part of the team now.”  
  
Although Optimus knew better, he failed to completely suppress the hint of teasing in the pitch of his vocalizer, thinking back to their last conversation about the topic.  
  
The ninjabot turned to him, - and seemed to vanish, right in front of Optimus widening, startled optics. – Were that faint scars on his servos? How had he managed to conceal them from Ratchet?! The acid - Prowl, what do you think you’re doing?!  
  
A sense of, what a human might have called ‘déjà vu’, crept into Optimus processor, as, from the shadows behind him, a voice spoke: “I am, when I am needed. – But I will never change my ways.”  
  
Not turning around, he answered: “I think you already are. And it’s not a bad thing, Prowl.”  
  
Nothing but silence reigned over the empty yard. But this was start. And a promising one, at that. – Maybe.  
  
  
  
End


	3. On Insights And Gifts

The car manufacturing plant turned Autobot base was, for once, quiet.  
  
Everyone was gathered in the main room, either watching TV or Prowls on-going training session. Surprisingly, the latter took place right in front of their optics and not in his room, which, according to Sari, resembled a Japanese karate dojo.  
  
Optimus took that as a good sign, having noticed small changes in the ninjabots behavior ever since their random ‘midnight talks’ and the recent fight against Meltdown. – But he could not shake off the weird feeling of dread in his spark that this peaceful evening would soon come to an abrupt end.  
  
Optimus wasn’t much of a ‘soothsayer’, as humans called it, but the way Bumblebee watched Prowl, got up from the couch and stalked over to the mech just spelled trouble in a way no ‘bot could possibly miss.  
  
Bumblebee and Circuit-Su training had always meshed, even back in space, - just in the wrong way. In automatic response, Optimus handed monitor duty over to Teletraan-1, to keep a closer optic on the yellow ‘bots antics.  
  
Bumblebee watched for a moment and then tried – and failed – to copy the graceful flowing motions.  
  
One swift strike followed the other, interrupted by astroseconds of absolute, calculating stillness, until another attack exploded forth; Prowls sleek frame a weapon in its own right.  
  
Bumblebee, on the other servo, looked... how to put it?  
  
Sari came unknowingly to Optimus rescue. Leaning over the seat back of the new couch, she giggled: “Bee – are you trying to catch a fly? Or did someone pour itching powder under your armor? ‘Cause that looks... ah, different from how Prowls doing it.”  
  
Bumblebee continued to chop at empty air: “Ha-ha-ha; very funny! This whole ‘stillness and strike’ stuff just ain’t my style. – Guess I have to spice it up!”  
  
Powering his stingers up, while still in the movement of copying Prowls roundhouse kick, had Bumblebee careening straight into Optimus, who caught him reflexively.  
  
“No active weapon systems on base, especially with Sari around,” he admonished sternly. “And, if you’re really interested, than you should simply ask Prowl for proper training. You can’t just learn a martial art starting with advanced forms.”  
  
While Prowl continued his katas, unfazed – or just too absorbed to care, which was actually unlikely -, Bumblebee shook Optimus’ steadying servo off, and his own up in frustration.  
  
“No way! Didn’t you hear him last time I tried? All that rubbish about meditation, energy alignments, auras and tuning in with your environment? I’m keen on some neat moves! Seriously, - all that nonsensical mythical stuff , - how can that be the groundwork for a martial art?! He talks like that gnome from the Star Wars movie Sari made us watch last week!”  
  
Sari erupted in a fit of laughter, imagining Prowl in a robe and with long, pointy ears, all green; sliding back down on the gray cushion and rolling around; her face going as red as her hair.  
  
Ratchet grumbled, as she knocked one of his tools over in the process. Bending down, he picked the scanner off of the concrete floor. Then he turned around to face Bumblebee and said, with a derisive snort: “Just don’t listen, kid. Ninjabots are a package deal – you don’t get them without their mumbo jumbo. Honestly! ‘Energy healing’, bah! Never want to hear about that pseudo-science nonsense ever again!”  
  
“Woah, grumpy much, old-timer?”  
  
“Now, Autobots, I think that’s enou-“  
  
“Uh – guys,” Bulkhead chimed in, abandoning his documentary; pointing to the spot from where Prowl had just vanished. The transom window clattered shut behind a streak of black and gold.  
  
“Oops – guess we touched broody-bots sore point.”  
  
“Bee!”  
  
“What?! You laughed too, Sari! And he did talk like those ‘miracle healer’ and ‘wish from the universe’ guys on TV!”  
  
While the two friends started bickering, with Bulkhead caught in the middle to separate them, Optimus vented a sigh, wishing he had stepped in sooner, - and not just tried.  
  
If Prowl training here had been some sort of improvement, they were back at square one. – So, what to do?  
  
BREAK  
  
“Prowl –“ Optimus tried again to reason, but was interrupted.  
  
“My answer, I fear, would only lead to more ‘mythical nonsense’,” the ninjabot was clearly unamused, although his tone was, as always, a neutral monotone.  
  
Optimus vented a sigh in an attempt to cool his circuits. Searching him out to try and talk about Circuit-Su, to understand the art better and maybe repair the damage done, hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped. – A miscalculation on Optimus part.  
  
Just because Prowl listened to him during rechargeless nights, sometimes even offering advice, didn’t mean that they had become friends by any stretch of the imagination. With other mechs, it would have been different, but not so with the ninjabot. – To a degree, it intrigued him. He was curious, - what made Prowl tick?  
  
“My apologies. I merely asked out of interest. I did not mean to offend you.”  
  
“If you did, then so did Bumblebee and Ratchet.” Prowls visor dimmed, adjusting as he raised his helm to gaze at the full moon. “I really...”  
  
After a breem passed in silence, Optimus probed with a gentle: “Yes?”  
  
“... I try to at least tolerate, and not belittle, each of your... – personality quirks. I would merely wish to be paid the same courtesy.” As the ninjabot was wont to do by now, he vanished into the shadows without another word.  
  
He was right, of course.  
  
Prowl did tolerate Bumblebee’s pestering; him constantly interrupting his meditations and, since arriving on Earth, the audio shattering music he played. And Prowl did far more – he subtly encouraged Bulkhead to pursue his new art hobby, and never yelled at the mech for being clumsy, even when he had crushed one of Prowls shuriken in his servo, while trying it out. Furthermore, he kept an ever watchful optic out for Sari, when she decided to play a prank or whenever she was present during a fight.  
  
Prowl did all that as stealthily as he did everything else and some would say that it was no big deal, even considering that he was a mech who liked to keep to himself. – But Optimus had noticed, because Prowl had ended up as part of their team only by accident. And, thinking of the ninjabot as some sort of coincidence acquaintance, an almost stranger, all things considered, put all those small things into a new perspective.  
  
All in all, Prowl was, by far, not as aloof and cold as he seemed on first glance. In fact, being as observant as he was, he tended to show up right when you needed him – which he would deny vehemently, of course.  
  
And, Optimus realized with sudden clarity, Bumblebee had probably been right with his callous observation: They had hurt Prowls feelings by ridiculing the art of Circuit-Su, to which the mech dedicated his whole existence.  
  
Optimus was far from figuring him out – he was too much of a walking contradiction – but it was a start.  
  
So, - he had to properly apologize. But how?  
  
BREAK  
  
Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots on Earth, felt utterly stupid. - In his right servo rested a tiny present box...  
  
Primus knew how that notion had come over him, but since Prowl had avoided any further attempts at an apology, Optimus had bought the mech... a gift. A ridiculous one, for a ninjabot, one which seemed appropriate then and now... not so much.  
  
“Did you want to come in?”  
  
Prowls muffled voice drifted through the closed door to his quarters; preventing Optimus’ processor from slipping into an infinity loop. – He actually flinched, jarring his red-blue frame, like a sparkling caught with one servo full of forbidden energon goodies. On instinct, Optimus knocked, as if he hadn’t lurked around the door for breems, before he let himself in.  
  
Prowls decoration was, unsurprisingly, sparse, with some bonsai’s and Asian ornaments – the sole optic catcher was the tree, growing from the middle straight up through the damaged roof.  
  
Tiny brown birds stopped in their happy twittering as Optimus moved hesitatingly closer. – Prowl was sitting cross-legged, leaning against the thick trunk; getting up in a fluid movement without the slightest noise of grinding gears.  
  
“Prime. What do you need? You look... nervous,” he stated smoothly in greeting.  
  
“I-I wanted to give you this. It’s – as an apology for yesterday,” Optimus offered the small box lamely; forcing the words from his vocalizer. – Feeling even more ridiculous for it.  
  
Prowl looked actually puzzled, before his faceplate went blank again. He accepted the present and unwrapped it with careful servos; cutting the string easily with the sharp edge of one digit. Setting the blue paper aside, he opened the carton.  
  
Reaching inside, he took hold of a small metal ring; pulling a wind chime out of yellow polystyrene flakes. The movement caused the six copper rods, dangling from a wooden circle, to clatter against each other and a round middle piece, producing a ringing sound; like bells.  
  
The frequency had something soothing, almost hypnotic to Optimus’ audios.  
  
Observing the ninjabots reaction intently, he was held on edge, as Prowl just stood and stared; studying the wind chime like some abstract art piece. – Or so Optimus guessed, because in reality, nothing gave Prowls thoughts away.  
  
Finally, one optic ridge rose from behind Prowls visor – Optimus felt the energon rushing into his faceplate. “I, well, it’s supposed to help with meditation. And – if you don’t like it, then-“  
  
“No,” Prowl interrupted firmly. “Thank you. Although an apology was... unnecessary, your gift is appreciated.”  
  
Something akin to a smile may have flashed around Prowls mouth plates; there and gone too quickly to really register within Optimus’ processor. – If his optics hadn’t deceived him in the first place. The branches swaying overhead created odd flickers of light, shining on the black and gold armor.  
  
With a slight bow, Prowl leaped up onto the lowest bough and kept going, till he reached the treetop. There, he wound the string around a sturdy twig, securing the wind chime with a tight knot.  
  
Moved by the gentle breeze, it rang, sending a vibrating, high note through the whole room. – Forgetting about his company, or maybe just ignoring the ‘bot on the ground, Prowl settled down to meditate to the sound.  
  
Which Optimus notched up as a full, if slightly embarrassing, success...  
  
Well, weirder things had happened to him in the last vorn, that was for sure.  
  
  
  
End


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: This is a stand-alone AU within the collection!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Dark, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alternative Universe - Dark

In the end, the Decepticons won.

Detroit went up in flames, leaving only puddles of molten Sumdac robots and ruins behind. Empty skyscrapers, overturned cars; eerie silence.

The streets were full of endless rubble, shrapnel embedded everywhere from the explosions. Glass shards glittered in the stark sunlight; each the piece of a broken dream.

Clouds of ash wafted lazily in the wind, carrying a foul stench no amount of rain could erase. Gray and sickly sweet, even after months had passed, it lingered like a shroud over a landscape devoid of life.

The remains of thousands and millions of humans erased, just drifting away...

Sari had died, trying to evacuate her father to safety, just as Megatron struck. The professor had to watch her fall and was imprisoned afterwards, only to be killed the moment his usefulness was outlived.

The Allspark key was lost.

Ratchet, Bumblebee and Bulkhead... – It was too painful to remember their deactivation; quick and torturous; relief and struggle till the end. Each different; all awful.

The last they had heard, Megatron had finished his space bridge, heading to Cybertron with his main force; leaving the hunt to Lugnut and Slipstream.

Reinforcements were soon sent to Earth.

Countries were invaded and crushed, humans shipped off – as fragile as these organic creatures were, as slaves they could serve a purpose. Till they died, within orns, crushed in the mines, - or worse.

The two of them were the only Autobots left functioning on this planet, - and Cybertron's fate was still uncertain, with no way left to contact the Elite Guard; isolated from everything.

So they ran. And hid.

They did what they could, employing guerilla tactics – but it was never enough to cause real damage, to stop the advance or to help anyone.

The bitter truth beyond that was: Existing alone is insufficient, when one had once known how it was to _live_.

BREAK

Optimus' dull frame weighed heavily on him; hot and full of dirt. It crushed his plating inwards till it clamped sensitive wires and tubing, slowing the flow of both coolant and energon. Prowl endured the slight pain stoically, allowing Optimus to cling to him, like every night.

Optimus' servos shook, rattling the once shiny black armor plate in his grasps. His optics were dim, gaze turned inside, seeing not the damp cave or Prowl, but the deaths he had been unable to prevent.

Prowls digits traced Optimus helm soothingly, avoiding the torn audio fin; feeling rough patches of graying metal and too many dents and scratches to count.

Words had the power to hurt, because their solace was empty, so Prowl just clicked at him, like a creator would do for a frightened sparkling – or a friend, close enough that the meaning was understood by spark.

Lost hope was a cut far deeper than a surface scratch.

Alternately, Prowl hummed, using his Circuit-Su to align their spark energies, to redirect them to flow more easily. They mirrored emotions, in a way, so Optimus' were like deserts drained and seas overflowing.

A tangle, chains – a black hole; there was so much lost of him.

He did it to soothe him, to dampen the pain and reduce the burden, - but Optimus allowed it to escape the memories. The infinity loop of golden moments lost and overwhelming darkness, playing in his minds eye to haunt his recharge like no mere nightmare ever could. – Since truth hurts the most. It's reality, not irrational fears.

Prowl used careful bursts of energy to disrupt relays and micro chips; the connection between memory banks and CPU. Intimately familiar with Optimus' inner workings, both in a technical and emotional sense, Prowl guided, coaxed and directed; the younger 'bot never knowing to what extent, but trusting him anyway.

A strangled sigh of guilty relief escaped Optimus vocalizer as recharge finally claimed him and his curled up frame went limp on top of the ninjabot.

BREAK

Prowl situated his frame against the trunk of a dead tree, the caves entrance firm in his field of view and all sensors alert; in the cover of the thick foliage around him.

He settled within himself, systems slowing, his perception opening up to the flowing energies around him; slipping into a superficial meditative state of processor.

Abstract contemplation's kept him busy and soon, Prowl found himself considering the 'easy way out'. – It was not unheard of, for a mech to extinguish his own spark. It had no name, this mystifying, sad concept; not in Cybertronian. Humans called it 'suicide'.

Abstract indeed, - it could never be Prowls way, he knew himself to be too proud to admit defeat of any kind.

The thought had merely entered his stilled processor out of morbid curiosity. – He had seen by now too many humans choosing to kill themselves. They preferred to embark on an uncertain journey – To paradise? To hell? Into nothingness? To end as rotting corpses? – rather than enduring the fate of a Decepticon pet.

They had tried, again and again, but they could not stay and protect those not yet caught or killed, - it broke Optimus' spark, piece by tiny piece, every time.

That, surprisingly enough, was for Prowl a reason to keep going. – Because of Optimus.

The younger 'bot was... too entangled, defined by others. It was a constant need for him, to go beyond his limits. He would always do so, - but never for himself. Optimus would, consequently, not keep going, should Prowl cease to function. Their connection was the last thread of a web now torn; leaving gaping holes behind were once others had existed.

Such terrifying, wonderful selflessness – truly the sign of a leader. Blessing once, it was now a curse, since all seemed lost.

A shame. – He was so _young_ , compared to Prowl...

What did Optimus truly know about life? What had he seen and experienced of it, aside from his training in the Elite Guard and his time as leader of a space bridge repair crew? Aside from war, that is. Optimus had just enough good memories saved in his processor to haunt him now.

It was ironic, but the only word to describe this situation, that Prowl could come up with, was 'unfair'. He was darkly amused to use it in this context; when a world was warped beyond recognition and would surely soon end, be it the whole of this planet or a young spark.

Seeing the only option left with the detached clarity only meditation could offer him, surrounded by chaos, as he was, Prowl knew what to do.

It wasn't much. – And it was certainly no sacrifice on his part, although, back at the beginning, he would certainly have thought so and fought with all he had against it.

Prowl would have to live for Optimus' sake, as grand as that sounded, it was a simple thing to do. There was no choice left, just acceptance; what is, is. – In a way, he had known this outcome all along.

On another plane of existence, Prowl was elated, in a chilly way. It was like... to wake up from your life, only to realize that you had lived a dream within a dream. And, maybe, in truth, it was a nightmare...

And you had to wonder, waking up: A nightmare? Was it now or then, here or there? Or did you just not see that it was something entirely different?

Prowl could still feel the lingering trace of Optimus' spark energy, swirling in his own systems, after their alignment. He had gotten used to it, as time passed, to the not so foreign presence of another; the whole process came natural now, easy and... welcome.

And he could almost still feel the touch of a heavy frame on his own, a warm weight, suffused with a kind spark; cracked by pressure but persistently reaching for Prowls own...

Was there less importance to it because it was artificially created and an attempt spurred on by desperation, rather than true attraction and choice?

To Prowl, it wasn't.

The basic component of every kind of relationship was always the need to shake off the crushing loneliness. Granted, it was more complex than that, but not as much as most romantic 'bots cared to admit.

In a way, it was enough for Prowl. Now, the only question left was if it was the same to Optimus or if he had misinterpreted the signs which went deeper than seeking solace...

But, one thing was clear to him: Being trapped in this way would be far more... _pleasant_ than the deathtrap which was made up by the whole of Earth.

BREAK

The shift within the cave alerted Prowl some breems later and he went back inside immediately. Weary, wide optics greeted him in the twilight, as he rounded the natural barrier of an old rockslide.

Seeing him, Optimus frame slumped with something akin to relief: "I thought... that you had left."

The dull words echoed heavily in the enclosed space and Prowl wondered for a moment what he could do to lay that fear to rest; feeling sorely unequipped to share his recent insight in mere words.

Faint disgust curled around his spark at his hesitance and he moved determinedly closer, to touch Optimus' spark chamber with careful, slow precision. He smiled at him, more open than ever before, not aware that, to an observer, the expression would seem twisted by the ugliness all around.

"I will never leave."

Optimus desperate reaction was Prowls answer to a question not spoken out loud.

...

...

...

Some orn, they would no longer be able to hit and run and hide.

That orn would come, sooner, rather than later. – But discovering something less dark in a dying world, neither 'bot cared. And, although foolish, that faint light gave them some hope.

(Foolish, because hope is the greatest torture one can endure).

END

**Author's Note:**

> For this FF I'm going with the idea that Prowl is far older than Optimus and has already mastered the art of Circuit-Su.


End file.
